


in the dark of the night

by wearethewitches



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Female Harry Potter, Gen, Gender or Sex Swap, Harry Potter was Raised by Other(s), Occlumency, Severitus | Severus Snape is Harry Potter's Parent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 09:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20833205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearethewitches/pseuds/wearethewitches
Summary: When Harry Potter goes missing, it seems to be that the Boy-Who-Lived is lost forever.Simultaneously, a girl who looks remarkably Snape-like shows up at Hogwarts.(It is not a coincidence.)





	in the dark of the night

“_Lumos maxima!_” His wand slashes through the air, the shadows fleeing as light invades every corner of the pitiful muggle dwelling. Severus looks down, studying the skeletons on the carpet in front of him. Not a single piece of flesh remains – even the marrow seems to be devoured.

A shadow creeps along the ceiling. Severus sees it out of the corner of his eye and he points his wand at it in a threatening manner.

“I have no compunctions over burning you all,” he growls and the shadow retreats. He can see them along the edge of the room, not entering but not leaving, either. They’re waiting for him to turn his back and he gives them no chance to attack, apparating away.

_Three_, he thinks. _Three skeletons_. No doubt, the muggle authorities will be baffled, but no magical creature did that – indeed, no magic was used at all, except to summon the carnivorous beasts from the nearby woods. Some investigators might be sent when the wards fall – the backlash will be comparative to when the Fidelius fell in Godric’s Hollow, with less explosions and attention-grabbing destruction, but definitely with a noticeable signature to both the Ministry and – comparatively – nearby magicals.

The wards are not why Severus is here though. No – Severus is here to abduct Harry Potter and bring him to a safe location while Albus Dumbledore scrambles to find a suitable long-term guardian for the Boy-Who-Lived and sole survivor of the Dursley massacre.

_Not that he’s making himself easy to find,_ Severus thinks, stalking along the street towards a neighbouring house. Privet Drive is ghastly perfunctory and no doubt, someone will have noticed a small boy wandering about, if not have him in their living room right now waiting for the Dursley’s to make a round of the neighbourhood in search. As such, he knocks on each and every door – but each and every time, there is no boy to be found.

“Where are you, Potter?” Severus questions, combing the town, looking through every alley and thicket as if he’ll find him curled up somewhere, freezing to death.

Eventually, however, Severus must give up the search. He returns to number four, Privet Drive, checking to make sure the boy hasn’t gone home during his hunt, but as before, only skeletons and man-eating shadows inhabit the homestead.

_I must have missed some vital clue as to his whereabouts,_ Severus decides. With careful use of light charms – and sternly worded conversations, along with a short summoning charm to offer all the uncooked meat in the kitchen as a peace-offering – Severus investigates the home, heading upstairs in search of Harry Potter’s bedroom.

It is difficult to discern where he sleeps. Some part of Severus wishes to believe Potter lives in the room full of shiny toys and belongings, but there are photos of a round blonde boy who must be his cousin on the walls at various celebrations with other round family members. That leaves only the master, a guest bedroom and a box room that is clearly being used for junk.

Severus is left uneasy. Where does the boy sleep?

The shadows know of his exploration – he explained it to them and they are intelligent enough to understand. When he stands there in the upstairs corridor, stumped, they curl around and around the walls by the staircase in a slow revolving motion, leaving enough space seen so the motion is obvious.

“What?” he snaps at them, watching the shadows flee downstairs. There is nothing for a moment, then Severus realises that no – no, they did not flee.

He goes downstairs, following where they lead.

His return to Hogwarts is quiet. Students step out of his way as he stalks to the infirmary, where Minerva in the Great Hall stated the Headmaster was busy assisting Poppy with a patient. Severus wants to punch a wall – he wants to pour poison down the throat of Potter’s dead relatives and watch them burn from the inside out.

Albus is entertaining a child when he arrives, rainbow smoke from his wand making all manner of beast and bird that fly and stomp around the child’s upright torso.

“Potter is nowhere to be found – I suspect he was either abducted by another witch or wizard for his own good or was murdered by his own aunt and uncle,” Severus says, voice sharp as he approaches. Albus startles and the child makes a wounded noise as the smoke dissipates. “Child abuse, Headmaster. I do not believe the _Boy-Who-Lived_ would have lived up to the moniker for much longer, regardless of current events.”

“Surely not,” Albus murmurs, shocked. “Petunia…”

“Petunia? That shrew of a woman has always been a cow to those she sees as _lesser,_” Severus spits, before glowering at the tiny figure between them. “Who is this?”

“A young girl who is as of yet unidentified,” Albus says quickly, smiling graciously at the girl, who looks to be even younger than the Potter boy – she’s all sticky limbs and bones, sallow skin pulled tight across her face. She’s four years old at most, by Severus’ guess and there is much damage to her – the ginormous green bandage across the lower half of her face is testament to that. “Madam Pomfrey and I worked very hard to save you.”

“T’anks,” the girl says, gaze drifting to Severus, who is startled by the familiar coal black of her irises. In fact, she’s too familiar for words and Severus finds himself disturbed. By the twinkle in Albus’ eyes, he’s already figured that _familiar_ out and Severus wants to know.

“The young lady here seemingly apparated to Hogwarts, which as you are aware if quite impossible – without consequences, at least,” Albus’ expression briefly goes grim, Severus quite able to imagine the effects apparating into a warded area had on a child – even disregarding splinching. It’s also probably why the girl is unidentified. Hogwarts’ wards are known to scramble the minds of intruders who make it through said wards.

_However, if one was a Master of Occlumency…_ Severus sits on the edge of her bed, tentative. Harry Potter can wait, for now, or Albus can take over – Severus thinks it more than likely the boy is hidden away by some purist abductor who had the Dursley’s murdered either for their treatment of a young wizard, or simply to cover their tracks.

“My name is Severus Tobias Snape,” he introduces himself levelly to the girl, meeting her gaze. “I am a Master of Potions and Occlumency, the art of mind-reading, to simplify it in a way you will understand. May I look into your memories, small child?”

Said small child looks to be less scrambled in the head than Severus believed she would be. Her hands clench and Severus notices they’re covered in skin-coloured bandages – most of her is, actually. Poppy probably didn’t want to alarm her with the bright white, though the green bandage around her face implies a potion is at work there to heal and reduce scarring. The fact that she bothered implies the wound will be visibly deforming.

“Memories,” she repeats, voice muffled because of the bandages constricting her jaw. Poppy has left the area around her mouth and nose free with a spell, but Severus struggles to hear her as she speaks. “Please.”

“Severus,” Albus starts in a warning voice. “Careful.”

“I know, I know,” Severus waves him off, taking out his wand and watching her reaction carefully. The girl’s attention is glued to his wand and not in the wary way, but in the _fascinated_ way, which is interesting. Severus wonders whether she’s another child of bad circumstances, like Potter, for he cannot think of any way for a child to apparate blind into Hogwarts without a destination unless she _was_ aiming – aiming for safety.

Amongst magical children in Britain, Hogwarts is a constant, known by even the youngest as their future and regarded as one of the few standards every magical person experiences. But as one of the last few strongholds capable of withstanding a dark force – a necessity when it safeguards the future of magical Britain – Hogwarts is also known as the ultimate safe haven.

However, if the girl is muggleborn, the whole point is moot. The girl would have no idea Hogwarts exists. Magic would be unknown to her – and a wand would be new and interesting. Watching her follow his wand movements as he prepares to cast a gentle, lullaby-soft _Legillimens, _Severus comes to the conclusion that this young girl had no idea magic existed before today.

He’s proven right.

Her mind is spilt and messy, with no order, rhyme nor reason to it. Severus likens it to a beach in the aftermath of a hurricane, everything washed up on shore. Part of his training as a Master Occlumens was understanding the mind of children versus adults, so Severus knows this is an effect of the Hogwarts wards – and an interesting effect it is.

_Adult wizards are left insensate,_ he thinks to himself as he journeys through her mind, gently collecting her natural barriers and reforming them manually. He doesn’t touch her memories yet, aware that in her current mental state, she would be drawn in and lost in her own recollection, unable to retreat. Her subconscious helps him with the reformation, a good sign of healing – though Severus can’t help but notice that it is more mature than an average toddler’s and acting oddly, at that.

“How long have you lived?” he asks it, not expecting for her subconscious mind to lead him through her mind – which is repairing itself at an unprecedented rate, which should not be able to do that when the girl is only a child without skill – and take him to what looks like a gaping hole. The subconscious curls and twists and Severus doesn’t understand, because the subconscious echoes the hole, taking the shape of it and mimicking it, like it’s suddenly going to change and become that what once filled the hole.

Severus remembers then, like the dolt he is, that a subconscious cannot do this. A subconscious cannot _interact_ because it is _subconscious._

“What are you?” Severus asks the entity in the girl’s mind and the entity doesn’t reply. Instead, it fades from his awareness and sense. Left wary and worried, expecting the entity to return at any moment, Severus watches her mind rebuild itself around him. The progress is what Severus expects from another Master Occlumens if they were recreating the entire structure of their mind and this – _this_ is what her subconscious does.

_Mayhaps, she absorbed the skills of the entity, or the entity implanted it in her mind._ Severus curls his lip and decides to visit the girl’s memories. Quite obviously, regardless of the _how,_ her mind is safeguarding itself and that should include repairing her natural responses to experiencing a memory.

The journey to her memory sanctum is longer than the walk with the dying entity. As time passes, Severus can watch the progress of the rebuilding. It’s fascinating to watch and it doesn’t hurt his pride at all to know that it was _his_ prodding that kickstarted the process.

Her memories are organised. They float about and there is chaos as they swirl inside a glass orb, but standing at the base of it all, Severus instead sees the night sky. He reaches up and then, he is drawn into the memory.

_Everything is blurry. That’s the first thing Severus notices. The girl obviously needs glasses – he’s seen it before. Around him, he can see the shapes and colours of dining room furniture. There are chairs, a table and an armoire to the back._

_In the memory, there is a voice. It’s screeching and makes Severus think sharply of a young Petunia Evans. A woman sits at the table with blonde hair and a peach dress._

_“What do you think you’re doing? That’s for my Diddykin’s packed lunch, you little freak!”_

_“But-”_

_“No but’s, go to your cupboard! No dinner for a week!”_

Severus retreats, mind humming with unrestrained anger. Impossible things are connecting in his mind, but they make no sense when the mind he is in belongs to a young girl. He resolves to investigate further and finds another memory, combing through blurry images and harpy-like shouting, trying to find evidence against the contrary.

_How?_ Severus asks himself as he searches, replaying a different memory just so he can stare at that large, blurry, blocky HARRY POTTER printed on laminated card that’s attached to a child’s school desk. _I’m in the mind of a girl! A young girl who is **not** Harry Potter! How can this be?_

Severus races to find _recent _memories. He reaches out stronger, more of his mind flowing into hers – to the point where she notices, her conscious mind attaching itself to his as he digs through her memories. He slows down when that happens, for he knows, intellectually, that she has had no time at all to process any of the changes in her own head and dragging her along with him through the depths of her clearly traumatic memories is cruel, if not outright abuse.

“My apologies,” he says and her mental image of herself is…telling. Her hair sticks up like a scarecrow’s, like in the real world, but her eyes are bright green and her skin a familiar bronze. She’s still female and she’s not as damaged as in reality, but her mental image is still a clear mish-mash of what she looks like _now_ and what she did _before_, as Harry Potter.

“I don’t understand,” she says.

“You will, as will I,” Severus replies, before finding something useful, finally.

_The living room of the Dursley house is recognisable while blurry when you’ve been in it before. Severus watches from her eyes as she enters, only for her relatives to yell at her._

_“What in the Devil- how did you get in?” her uncle shouts first, his large girth terrifying from the short angle as he approaches. Severus feels the hand that grabs her shoulder like it’s taken his own. “Urchin! Who are you?”_

_“Uncle Vernon?” she startles, her confusion clearly staining the memory._

_The grip tightens painfully. “Boy? What have you done to yourself, bloody freak? You look like- like-”_

_“Is that Harry?” the cousin asks, dazzled._

_Petunia makes a noise of disgusted derision. “It can’t be! Get her out, Vernon and get the boy.”_

_“Agreed, Pet,” the uncle – Vernon Dursley – grunts and the girl who is Harry Potter tries to resist, not understanding what’s happening. She’s thrown out onto the street, told to go home and she’s obedient, Severus gives her that – she does exactly as instructed and finds her way back into that wretched cupboard later in the morning._

“This does not explain what happened,” Severus observes, noting his own reservations over calling the girl beside him _Harry Potter_ when clearly, she barely hears her own name enough to know it intimately, like everyone else in the world does. “We will search.”

The girl nods.

Together, they watch memory after memory. The girl curls up against his mental presence and Severus allows it, because the memories they witness are terrible and it’s bad enough that she went through them once before – even if she _is_ Potter’s spawn. But they _do_ find out the truth, which is far more complex than it sounds.

Overnight, Harry Potter transformed into a dark-eyed, pale-skinned, female version of himself. _She_ then went on like normal, unknowing of the changes. Her relatives were disturbed, however and over the course of a day, they all came to realise what had happened wasn’t changing. Her relatives got angry. They hurt her, denied her food and worst of all, caused the girl to realise that changing even just her fundamental appearance didn’t make her any less of a freak in the Dursley’s eyes.

She broke. Her magic lashed out and she summoned the shadow-creatures that ate them to bones in front of her eyes. Then, upon realising the danger, she wished herself away, apparating to the safest place her magic could grasp: Hogwarts. There are no more memories after that, except after Poppy woke her from an enchanted sleep.

It explains everything except one thing – why she changed appearance in the first place.

“Do you know anything?” he asks her, knowing it to be folly. The girl replies in the negative and together, they come back to the real world. Severus winces when she leaps forwards, scrambling to wrap her arms around his torso, whimpering. He imagines the barrage of memories is painful as well as upsetting.

“Severus,” Albus rouses him, “did you find anything?”

_Oh no._

Severus knows he should tell Albus what has happened to his precious saviour, but he thinks of the welfare of the child in front of him. All the Potter has been drained out of her and only one potion Severus knows could do that, if reversed – meaning, quite literally, there must be no Potter within her at all.

Albus has not connected this girl to the Boy-Who-Lived – he would have called Severus off earlier, if he had. The girl will be subject to many tests and much scrutiny if it is revealed she is the famous child.

“Did Poppy find anything in her results?” he asks instead, ignoring how strained his own voice sounds. Albus hums, watching him.

“Indeed, she did.”

“…and _what_ did she discover?” Severus asks harshly, feeling the girl stiffen against him. Curling his lip in a grimace, he reluctantly raises a hand, resting it against her spine in a faux-comforting motion. _Merlin, save me from five year-olds._

Albus hums again, leaning back in his chair, redirecting, “What did you find in her mind, Severus? Obviously, it was intriguing enough that you have allowed physical contact – a rarity with you, I find.”

“I will not deny her much, at this point in time,” Severus allows one manipulation, one _answer_, before he returns to discovering Poppy’s results. “What did Madam Pomfrey find, Albus?”

“Suspecting the girl to be a pureblood under _in loco familus_ wards, Poppy requested my help in transcribing the ward scheme to find the origin House,” the old coot describes and as much as Severus hates his long, winding stories, it is getting him an answer of his own. “They were quite interesting, I’ll say at the very least. Completely original.”

That takes a moment to compute. “Original?” Severus questions, knowing such thing is very, _very_ rare – but often the invention of muggleborns and half-bloods without Houses of their own to offer the wards most pureblood children are placed under, for their own safety. Severus himself was under the Prince wards for most of his childhood – it was the only thing that kept him safe from curses from upper-year bullies in his first year, who had a proclivity for dark magic.

“Yes, completely,” Albus nods. “There was a most _interesting_ design related to escape, however. I thought it to be a formative mistake in the creation, but no, I realised it could not be.” Seeing Severus’ impatient face, Albus continues quickly. “The escape ward was designed to direct her to the physical house of her father, in the event of an emergency transport of any kind directed under her own power. I deduce this is why she appeared in Hogwarts – because her biological father resides under the castle roof.”

Severus freezes.

_James Potter is dead,_ he thinks, looking sharply down, _and she has no Potter blood within her. But this i__s Harry Potter, nevertheless-_

But this girl isn’t really Harry Potter, not anymore, is she? This girl looks nothing like Potter. No longer does she look like an Indian idol or even like Lily, much. Her eyes are almond-shaped and there’s a smattering of freckles on her chin like Lily’s, however other than that, truly, the girl looks more like- more like-

“Severus, my boy, I do think you are the only likely candidate, in this situation,” Albus says gently and it _can’t_ be true. How can it be true? Severus never copulated with Lily. He’d certainly remember, if he had.

_That is certainly not something I’d be willing to forget,_ he thinks, pushing the girl back gently, looking at her intently. She’s got an almost glazed look to her eyes – she’s sunk into her own psyche, still processing her own memories. _If I look far, far back…_

“Excuse me, Headmaster,” he says, before diving back into the young girl’s head.

Her consciousness is quick to latch onto him again. They return to the globe of memories that spin like a mobile, stars above them in an endless, pitch sky.

“Stay here,” he directs the girl, who fidgets with indecision, but does as she’s told. Making sure she detaches from him, Severus floats upwards past the memories towards that blackness. The memories he’s looking for are too old and too indistinct for her to recall – but if _Severus_ looks, with the skill of a Master Occlumens, _maybe_ he can spin one into being.

The blackness presses around him like an iron band and robs him of his breath at the same time. Severus ignores it. These are subconscious defences of a pre-pubescent mind. They are small and unnecessary, in this moment – though he notices mildly that even as he delves in deeper, better walls and traps form behind him.

_I have pressed something else into bettering itself,_ he notes with a hint of victorious pride. It’s vaguely worrying to know there was some kind of entity in the girl’s mind to allow such unconscious skill, but the results are undeniable.

In the blackness, Severus brings out his own spectres, using them as bait for similar recollections. The trick works, even if the memory of Lily makes him want to scream. He manages to get his hands on a formative memory that is just as blurry as her newer memories and far more patchy, fading in and out.

_No broccoli for you,_ he thinks idly, adding his own touch to the memory – modifying it, so Lily is clearer and brighter. What was a sense-memory of disliking green vegetables turns into a brief memory of her mother and he carefully stows it away to bring into the primary mind-space. Severus does this again and again, occasionally discarding the memories instead of keeping them in pettiness, for the sole reason that is because they have James Potter in them. _It’s not like he’s her real father, anyway,_ he snits.

Eventually, though, there comes a point where there are no more memories to renew. The ones left are too fuzzy or too short – snapshots that not even Severus’ talents could bring back to life, not when he wasn’t present in the first place. If he tried to bring them to the forefront of her mind, most likely, she would just forget them again.

Severus sighs. The flexibility of a child’s brain is astronomical, but she’s still only human, even with her apparent predilection for occlumency.

Simultaneously disappointed that he could not find some sort of explanation, Severus returns to her living mind, a new scheme spinning into existence. She is not Harry Potter anymore – and Severus refuses to suffer the indignity of being called father to a bastard. If that story was spread and it would be, eventually, Severus would _never_ hear the end of it.

“I want to do something to you,” he tells her. The girl comes closer, nodding and Severus does not regret what he’s about to do, for her trust in him is misplaced and unwise. Bundling her conscious mind in his own presence, he does not let her see what he does next. “_Bombarda maxima!_”

The spell has the same effects in her mind as it would in real life, his mind reaching out and pressing the same devastating consequences upon her memory archive. With her consciousness entrapped in his own, she is shielded from the backlash and Severus is careful to keep her shrouded as the rest of him works quickly. What will give her away if Albus ever looks in her mind, Severus figures, is the sound, rather than the tattered recollections. Those can be explained away as an effect of Hogwarts’ wards.

_I will have to convince Poppy to letting me modify her memory, pretending it’s my paranoia about someone discovering what form of wards surround her. I’ll make Poppy believe she was deaf until Poppy healed her ear canal – it will explain the lack of voices, but not the lack of vibrato._

Severus feels no guilt over his actions. He cuts her memories apart, keeping foundational lessons and even adding to them, splicing his own memories of primary school with her own. There is nothing he can do about her age – the Hogwarts registry will pick her up at the appropriate time regardless of any paperwork machinations.

When he is tiredly satisfied with the destruction he has wreaked, he slowly unveils the girl’s consciousness, slowly pouring her back into her own mind. Her distress is palpable. Severus keeps a hold of her, enforcing his own calm upon her as she sinks into her memory bank.

Then, his only concession, explained away to Albus if he looks as his own modification of her memories because her ‘true’ mother was cruel, he gives her Lily.

Unfolding from around her, Severus retreats once more. He is startled to find the girl is staring at him hollowly, as if she knows what just occurred – except then her eyes are filled with tears and she smiles at him with her teeth bared.

It reminds him of Eileen.

“You are my daughter and you will not keep your old name,” he says to her, ignoring how Albus claps happily, smiling. Severus will not change his nature – _not yet _– and so his face remains blank. “You are a Snape. We will discuss a first name later. You may call me Father.”

“Perhaps something gentler, Severus?” Albus prods joyfully.

“No,” says Severus in a savage voice, before standing and rearranging the girl on the bed, tucking her under the covers and spelling her asleep. Then he gives into his previous urge to punch the wall, letting out an emotional shout – one mixed with pain as his fist snaps in multiple places, throbbing sharply.

“Severus,” Albus scolds, standing and walking around the bed, taking his wrist and inspecting the damage. “I know this was unexpected-”

“Lily’s boy is more than likely dead and I am now responsible for an entirely different five-year old whose guardians were most definitely unfit to raise children,” he interrupts him. “I am allowed to be angry.”

Poppy is summoned to heal his hand while Albus mulls, clearly despairing over the fate of Harry Potter. Severus could care less – he has new responsibilities, after all. Responsibilities that need a name.

_Narcissa wouldn’t forgive me if I didn’t make it as dramatic as possible,_ Severus thinks, sitting by the hospital bed and staring at his new daughter, feeling the thimble of skelegrow he’d been given get to work on healing his fractured fingers. _Merlin’s fucking balls, I’m a dad._

There is so much to do if he keeps the child – and he _must_. She is Lily’s daughter. She is _Lily’s._ The name is the first thing he will address and then his quarters will have to be modified, but that’s the work of a house-elf. His personal wards will have to be updated and his Slytherin’s informed. Oh, _that_ will be a conversation and a half. He will not have them treating her ill – in fact, if they don’t treat her better than a damn priestess out of respect for him, Severus will start handing out detentions to his own students like bloody _candy_.

Severus grinds his teeth. _For someone who never thought about being a father before, you’re getting awfully worked up over it,_ he thinks sarcastically. _I have to write to Lucius and Narcissa. What kind of things do I need to raise a child? I’ll have to update my Will and get a trust vault set up to multiply over the years-_

Another thought comes to mind. The goblins. _Fuck dammit,_ Severus shuts his eyes, grimacing. _If Dumbledore enlists their services, he’s going to realise Harry James Potter doesn’t exist or worse, be led straight back to me and the girl._

The bribe Severus will have to spend is going to be ridiculous.

_When she gets better, I’m taking her straight to Gringotts for an appraisal, goblin-style,_ Severus promises himself, hoping to Circe it won’t be too late by then. He looks at where she lies asleep on the bed, nerves turning his guts inside out. _I need to speak to Narcissa. Merlin wept, how will I explain this to her? No matter about me having a child all of a sudden, this is formerly the Boy-Who-Lived!_

Severus squeezes his fists, trying not to show the cracks in his composure any more than he already has.

_Gringotts first, _he decides. _Then Narcissa._


End file.
